


open your heart; let the light in

by SOMNlARl



Series: Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, Dorian doesn't understand healthy family relationships, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Meeting the Family, Mia is basically Molly Weasley and Dorian is Harry, so much fluff oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I don’t think I can do this.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Cullen yawned, stretching with a sigh as he wrapped his arms tighter around Dorian’s chest. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Dorian.” A warning, even as the man nosed softly at the edge of his neck, just at the hollow where sinewy muscle met collarbone. “Stop. Everything will be fine as long as you relax. They’re going to love you. Just…”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Yes, Amatus,” Dorian interjected, exasperated. “Just be myself. You’ve said. What you haven’t said is what happens when I am myself and they don’t love me.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	open your heart; let the light in

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a headcanon based on this prompt: _Cullrian headcanon prompt; How does Dorian meeting Cullen's family go?_ Obviously it got away from me a little. 
> 
> prompt me or yell about cullrian with me on tumblr: [xhermionedanger](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com)

The noise of the inn drifted upstairs, off-key singing hung thick in the darkness of their humble, rented room. 

Dorian sighed and curled closer into Cullen’s chest, shivering against the cold night air that seeped beneath the windowpane. 

Outside it was snowing, soft flakes falling lazily to the ground. Cullen would likely call it beautiful he thought, the way the moonlight glimmered off each one on their fall to earth. 

“Can’t sleep, my heart?” Cullen whispered sleepily, reaching around to softly pat Dorian’s shoulder. 

He shook his head. “Amatus?”

Cullen hummed as his lips brushed against Dorian’s temple. 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Cullen yawned, stretching with a sigh as he wrapped his arms tighter around Dorian’s chest. 

“Dorian.” A warning, even as the man nosed softly at the edge of his neck, just at the hollow where sinewy muscle met collarbone. “Stop. Everything will be fine as long as you relax. They’re going to love you. Just…”

“Yes, Amatus,” Dorian interjected, exasperated. “Just be myself. You’ve said. What you haven’t said is what happens when I  _am_  myself and they  _don’t_ love me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Cullen said as they kissed. “Just be yourself, the man I love, and they’ll love you. I promise.”

Dorian sighed. 

It was easy enough for Cullen to say.  _Be yourself_. When had being himself ever gotten the man ostracized, reviled, nearly killed? He wanted to believe him but easy acceptance…  _nonsense_ , even in Ferelden people couldn’t possibly behave in such a fashion. And Cullen was so devoted to his family. What if they  _hated_  him? Cullen would have to hate him too and he couldn’t bear it. Admitting that he cared for the man as he did had been difficult enough, the idea of losing him… Dorian’s stomach clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, raising a hand to rub at his throbbing temples. 

“You’re overthinking this, my love,” Cullen whispered, cupping Dorian’s jaw to pull him in for another kiss. 

“Tell me about them again?” Dorian asked. He forced himself to take a deep breath, relaxing as Cullen traced a hand slowly down his side. 

The man chuckled. “Of course, my heart. Mia’s my older sister, you’ll know her because… well, in all likelihood she’ll be yelling at me.”

Dorian smiled. “Ah, yes. She’s the one you always forget to write to tell her that you’re not dead?”

“I don’t!” Cullen said, indignant. “Well, perhaps I do. Although I should point out that the last time that happened Haven had just been destroyed by an Archdemon. I had... more than a few things on my mind. Then there’s Branson. If he’s anything like I remember him tell stories of some of your adventures and most dangerous battles.” 

Cullen yawned again and blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open. “And Rosalie? Just be nice to her cat.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Dorian said, bitterness rising in the back of his throat. 

People aren’t this easy, that much he’s learned. There’s always an ulterior motive lurking inside of them. Whether they want money or influence, power or something more… physical, there’s always a catch. He wanted to trust that here at least there are no expectations but everything he’s come to know in his life screams otherwise. 

“Perhaps it is, outside of Tevinter.” Cullen leaned in until they touched foreheads lightly and Dorian made a small, disgruntled noise. He grinned despite himself. “Get some sleep, my heart. And try not to fret. I’ll be there with you, everything will be fine.”

***

The Rutherford’s farm is larger than he’d imagined and much less rundown. There’s a paddock full of sheep, another of druffalo and a small orchard behind, bare branches dusted with newly fallen snow. The main house is freshly painted and as they ride up there’s a crowd waiting outside. 

“Cullen. Stanton. Rutherford. You come here this instant!” 

Dorian slides off his horse and hands the reigns to the waiting stablehand. He walks quickly behind Cullen, trying to stay out of sight. 

As they approach the house a woman breaks away from the group, long blonde curls threatening to escape their loose bun. She walks right past Cullen, pausing only to smack a hand on the man’s thigh before she pulls Dorian into a tight hug. 

He tenses in her arms, every muscle on fire, twitching to pull away. 

“You must be Dorian,” she whispers, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you! _Maker_ bless you. We’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for keeping my  _stupid_  brother alive and happy.” She casts a withering look at Cullen who has the decency to look half-chastened. 

Dorian tries to back away, breath stuttering in his throat, but she pulls him tighter into her embrace. “I… it’s good to meet you?”

“Hush now,” she says, pulling away to smooth decisively at her skirts. “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Come in, come in.”

Cullen smirks back at him and he follows the group inside, dazed. 

He nearly trips over the cat. Rosalie scowls until he kneels down to pet it, lets the creature rub up against his robes until the pale cream and gold swirls of the silk are covered in ginger fur. 

Mia tucks him into an armchair by the fire before he can think to protest and soon there’s a glass of wine pressed into his hand. 

This isn’t what family is supposed to feel like. Or perhaps it is? It’s exactly what Cullen had assured him of all these long weeks before their journey, Branson leaning against the wall begging for anecdotes of the Inquisition’s journeys and Mia fussing over him, insisting he take another glass of wine or something to eat once they move to the table. 

The conversation never stops swirling around him until he’s dizzy, drunk with it. Mia asks about himself and, looking into her eyes - so like Cullen’s - he can’t stop talking. He tells her about Tevinter, about his family, about his time with the Inquisition and she  _listens_ , listens as though she’s actually interested. She couldn't be, she's just being polite surely. 

He looks over at Cullen, perhaps he’s spoken too much? He’s ruining everything, of course he is and his heart’s racing, pounding high and fast in his chest until he thinks it might explode. But the man just smiles and nods, urging him on.

It’s nothing like home, there are no hidden barbs to listen for, no traps to fall into. 

He doesn’t realize how worn out from their journey he is until he yawns and feels Cullen’s hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him up from the chair and down the hallway towards the room that has been prepared for them. No questions, no judgmental looks. It’s theirs and the glare he gets from Mia when he starts to question their appointments is withering. Of _course_ it’s theirs. 

There are more hugs, a kiss pressed against his cheek and as he’s drifting off to sleep he chances a whisper. 

“They liked me, didn't they? They actually liked me.”

Cullen buries his face in the nape of his neck, his stubble tickling as he presses kiss after kiss against soft skin until Dorian laughs and squirms away from the touch. 

“I told you they would, my heart.”


End file.
